the Story of Remus J Lupin: HalfbreedWolf Moon
by Shadoling
Summary: Hullo! I'm Shadoling. I have a fetish for werewolves. And horror. And Fantasy. I love Remus Lupin soooo much, that I decided to write up his history! TADA! from the bite, to...whenever I get too lazy to finish.


December 30th, 1967  
It was dark.  
And quiet. The snow seemed to eat away the sound outside, soft, glittering flakes cascading past a window lit by the golden glow of a single, shimmering candle.  
I couldn't sleep.  
No one could.  
Not since the werewolf came.

Lothley Village, 1967

The Village of Lothley was a fine place to grow up. Under the influence of an older brother, Roman, with two loving parents, Carissa and Joseph Lupin, and, though we certainly weren't of the upper class, we got by. It was a docile place of Muggles and wizards alike, and neither bothered the other, for we kept our whereabouts well concealed to the Muggle eye.

Muggle, you ask? What is a Muggle? It is a non-magic user, folk without magical powers...someone who isn't a wizard or witch. Yes. Magic DOES exist. Just not in the way you might think.

As it was, my father worked for the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Misused Charms and Hexes. He wasn't a very good wizard, bit clumsy, really...it was my mother, clear, and level-headed, who was a much more able house-witch. Roman, my older, handsomer brother was a hot-head, bound for Hogwarts, the most prestigious school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world! At least, that's what my father said. Roman was older than me by a year or so, and a fine example of brotherly values, when he wasn't trying to stuff Jelly Slugs up my nose, of course.

Anyways...the night was deep October, the 31st, when the werewolf first appeared, threatening to shatter the delicate existence between wizards and muggles alike. It was the first in over two hundred years, of events, since a gryphon stole the muggle duke's child out of his mother's grip, when the village was first established.

But the first night, it was only a deer. The hunting muggles, going out to either sport or get their supper, found a doe, torn to ribbons and left on the chill autumn ground, amongst the forest's foliage. They claimed they'd never seen anything so brutally done. Nor so quick. The deer hadn't even turned 'round to her attacker, they said.

So another month passed, the villagers warily going about their business, but for the most part, forgetting about the disturbing incident. However, come the full moon's three night passage the next month, November, when the frost had gathered to halo the grass, it came and killed again.

This time it was a muggle. Peter Sorrel, the town's butcher, was found with his throat slashed out.  
I won't relate how he was found, but I will say that his children, who I used to play with, will suffer from trauma for the rest of their lives, I do believe.

That same night, the wizarding council gathered, Ministry of Magic officials apparating in our own rather small home. I don't remember a lot...I was hiding behind the cupboard door, with Roman cramped up beside me, my ear pressed to the crack, as Roman peered through the door.  
"--Too dangerous--"  
"Think of our community--!"  
"Joseph?"  
There was momentary silence.  
"...we kill it. Next month. Buys us--time--"  
"--plan?--"  
"They're leaving!" Roman hissed. "Quick, back up!"  
We scooted back. I swore, as my father opened the door for them, he looked straight into the crack where we were hiding. His expression...  
I've never seen my father look so worried in all my life.

Now it was December. It was a snowstorm like no other outside that evening. My mother begged my father not to go out, but he insisted upon it, for the safety of the Muggles, who still had no idea what they were dealing with. Millie Warholl suggested, perhaps, that it was an escaped lion from the zoo, whereas Peter Marius protested, saying, clearly, this was the work of a madman.

We knew better, for nothing kills ONLY on the trio of nights surrounding the full moon.

As my father was gathering up his long, green cloak to head off into the night, I tiptoed downstairs, clutching all my precious books...I loved to read, but this time, it was for the sake of my father that I read these particular novels. _Werewolves and Watching_, _Werelings: When the Moon Bites!_ and _Lycanthropes with Little Leway: Werewolves Through the Ages._ I wasn't sure I understood the whole werewolf thing...but if it would help my dad in any way...  
"Daddy?" I whispered, shrugging the novels under my arms and tightening my grip, I stepped over to him. He jumped, and, cursing, nearly tripped over the hem of his emerald robe. I bit down a hysterical giggle.  
"Remus!" He knelt down, sweeping back his cloak to casually shut the door. His fingers trembled. "Shouldn't you be in bed? Like your older brother?"  
"I can't sleep, Dad." I held up the heavy books to the light of his wand. "I thought maybe these could help."  
His worried face softened slightly, and he sighed.  
"You and your books, Remus..."  
"Daddy, please just take them!" I said, a bit louder, thrusting the books towards his long, melancholy face. "They might help! You never know."  
He sighed irritably, nerves making him tired, I knew. But I thought, if anything, these might keep him safe.  
"..fine.." he muttered, picking up the books in a hurried manor, and, at the same time, shifting his wand to his mouth, so that he could use his free hand to send me towards the bedrooms upstairs. "And you," he said in a muffled manner, wand still clenched between his teeth,"Should go baff to beff."  
"But, Dad--!"  
"No buffs, Remfuf, now go!" He shoved me lightly with his hand, and I, stumbling, managed to turn round again, only to face the door slamming shut.  
Pouting for a moment, as any child denied what he wanted would, I pushed back my brown hair...and considered my options.

That's when I spied that my father had dropped his wand. My eyes widened.  
"Oh, no."  
For in my effort of giving him those silly, useless books, I had deprived my father of the one thing that could _truly_ save him! And I knew that!

I was nowhere near as athletic as Roman. Years of bronchitis and sicknesses like Dragon Pox deprived me of much of the energy a lot of the village children had. But I got by.  
But...how in the world could I possibly hope to get the wand to my father!  
...I had to try.

Without a second thought, I grabbed Roman's coat, knowing the bigger, less worn (all my clothes were hand-me-downs) would keep off the winter's cold. I tugged it firmly around me, snugly wrapping it around my skinny frame, before lifting the latch on the door (carved with the head of a lion) and taking off into the night.

The woods were dark and silent. Snowflakes filtered through the shafts of moonlight, which cut through the inky tree branches like knives, shooting towards the snow-littered forest floor to create pools of silvery mirrors amongst the deadened leaves.  
I rushed over tree roots, brushing past the crooked limbs, and breaking my way through the underbrush, uncaring for the noise I made, so long as I could find my father in time.  
I saw a man, or, so I thought, through the trees, at the edge of the woods. He seemed to be stooped over, examining something on the ground.  
"Father!" I called, waving my arm, causing the wand to emit purple sparks. "Father, I found your wa--whoops!" I hit the wrong root, and, falling hard against the floor of the woods.  
The figure rounded, and, thrown into sharp relief of the moon's glow, was a snarling, creased face, rimmed by silvery hair and carved with the muzzle of, unmistakably, a wolf. It was big, I could see that now, darkness had shrouded the sinuous muscles and broad shoulders. Claws, long as my forearm, nearly, scraped the ground...as the beast came rushing towards me.  
"FATHER!" I screamed, flailing in the too-big coat, and trying to draw myself back to my feet. It was nearly upon me, jaws slavering, talons reaching, reaching like I was an anchor, its last true hold to the earth.  
"REMUS!" My father roared, crashing through the undergrowth and stumbling to the earth nearby, a few yards off. "TOSS ME MY WAND!"  
I fumbled a moment, whimpering in panic, before managing to cast the wand aside to him, and, throwing up my arms to shield my face and thin chest, was attacked by the monster.  
Its hot breath reeked of blood, or perhaps something much more sinister. Its glowing eyes, held by the moonlight, seemed to flame, the slits were evil things, but I barely saw them, the claws and teeth were tying their time against me, and I was slowly being crushed against the frozen earth, under its weight.  
"REMUS, HOLD STILL--"

"I CAN'T--"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

My father's voice seemed to ring out across the frosty woods, and then, with a silent howl, the werewolf collapsed against me, dead in an instant. I was sobbing, how could I help it? I was frightened, sore, and completely exhausted, despite the swiftness of this endeavor. Darkness swam before my eyes, and then, before I could pass out, my father hauled me to my feet.  
"Remus!" he snapped, grabbing my shoulders and causing me to cry out in pain. "What the hell are you doing here? Merlin's Beard, I--if I lo...If I lost you..." He bit his lower lip, and, slowly tugging me towards him, folded me into a tight, warm embrace. His fingers brushed away my tears, and, slowly, he sighed, "I don't know what I'd do."  
We stayed that way in a moment, unforgetting of the dead wolf beside us, who had changed back into a man...a thin, scarred old man with no harm in him...that I could see.  
My wrist ached, I feared I had sprained it, and, as my father released me, something hot and red dropped into the snow, "plip", like a small raindrop.

"What was that?" my father demanded, sharply. He glanced at me, his normally level hazel eyes widened, and, yanking my wrist forward, shoved back my coat sleeve, despite my protesting yelp of pain.  
A half-moon mark, that's what they called it. A layer of teeth wounds bit into my pale skin, punching holes there that leaked crimson tears.

"...Merlin's Beard..." my father said hoarsely, dropping my wrist and slowly lifting his eyes to meet mine. I knew my face drained of blood, because my father's already had.

"Wh..." I had read the books. Dare I say, I understood but little of them. However, one thing remained certain in my mind...  
I had the bite. With the bite, came the power.

And with the power, came the monster.

"...Are you going to kill me, daddy?" I asked.

I'll never forget that. His hand, tightening around the wand. His eyes, never leaving my face, haunted expression boring into me. And the silence of the wintry woods.

"..No." He whispered, dropping the wand, and drawing me close to him again. "I would never...we'll get by...I...we'll find a way." He muttered, and, slowly getting to his feet, stared down at the fallen figure in the snow, its limbs twisted still, but the elderly face...at peace.

"...I will protect you, Remus.  
No matter what."


End file.
